Salt and Light, Together

Sermon preached Sunday, February 5, 2023, the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour, in North Chesterfield, VA. 

“For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:20).

Oof. That’s quite the statement. We’ve got to be more righteous than them? Sounds like a tall order.

But I think it’s important to remember the ways in which the scribes and Pharisees are talked about in the Gospel of Matthew. The portrayal is not particularly flattering…and this unflattering portrayal has led to some really harmful discourse about Jewish people in general. Matthew portrays these particular religious leaders as legalistic hardliners who set nearly impossible to follow rules in the name of righteousness, but who end up leaving most people on the outside looking in.

And so, if Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew is saying that we need to be more righteous than them, it doesn’t mean that we need to follow the rules better. Jesus spends lots of time in Matthew breaking down the deeper meaning of God’s law, how focusing on the more holistic nature of God’s will for humanity is the more righteous path. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law,” Jesus says, “I have not come to abolish but to fulfill.” (Matthew 5:13). In other words, his approach is not doing away with some of these practices for the sake of doing away with them, but because the miss the bigger point.

This morning’s excerpt follows immediately after last week’s Gospel reading, the Beatitudes:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. ¹²Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Matthew 5:3-11)

Here, Jesus lays out who is blessed, who is righteous, who the “you” are who are named salt and light.

The “you” Jesus is speaking is all those folks he just named: the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, the ones who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted.

These are words of hope, words of promise to people who have little to look forward to. All of these groups who Jesus has just identified as blessed have bleak prospects. They are oppressed. They are grieving. They are trying to find peace and justice and goodness when all those things seem in short supply. They are looking for the light.

…and Jesus tells them that they are it. They are the light that the world needs. They are blessed with all these things from God and those blessings shine through them out into the people and places around them. They are the face and hands and feet of Christ in a hurting world.

And we know that it’s not only meant for them, but for us, too, today. When Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” his words are for all of us as well. Aren’t we also facing a bleak world filled with injustice? Don’t we also see corrupt forces win the day? Don’t we also see people mistreated or allowed to suffer? Don’t we also hunger and thirst for righteousness?

So, we are the light of the world in the here and now. And remember that Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” not “you will be” or “you could be.” Jesus is making a declarative statement about the present, not some conditional proposition that we could choose to live up to or not. It is something we are already in place to do—something we are already empowered to do.

That might feel like a lot of pressure. You might be thinking, “How can I be salt and light in a meaningful way?” And that’s almost the wrong question. We miss it sometimes because the English language doesn’t have a great word for the plural “you,” but that’s what this is. Jesus isn’t saying, “You, individually, are salt and light.” Jesus is saying, “Y’all, all y’all, are salt and light collectively.”

This changes how we understand it. The pressure for any one of us to do it all “right” or to have it all figured out is lessened because we have our community that we can lean on. When one of us is struggling, others can lift us up, can continue to shine and taste salty. Do you see? If we’re on our own, we can’t be salt and light, not all the time. But, working together, the Body of Christ is and continues to be salt and light for the earth.

And we don’t need to guess at what that means: scripture gives a pretty good idea, especially in today’s reading from Isaiah. The Lord is speaking to Israel and telling them that empty gestures of worship aren’t cutting it. Instead, God lays out the “fast” that would be preferred. Let me repeat it for you:

“⁶Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin? …
^9bIf you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
¹⁰if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.” (Isaiah 58:6-10)

Did you catch all that? Let’s break it down.

“…to loose the bonds of injustice and undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free and to break every yoke.” What might that look like?

It might mean working to fix broken systems that disproportionately impact certain groups more than others. It might mean ensuring that people aren’t taken advantage of by their employers as they seek to make a living wage. It might mean seeking out and providing mental and physical health care to all who are ill in body and spirit.

Then, what’s next? “…to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin.” This shouldn’t be too hard to parse out, right? How can we get food to hungry people? How can we provide shelter to folks who need it? What can we do get people the basic necessities of life?

And how about that last line: “hide yourself from your own kin.” We need to not cut ourselves off from each other. Instead, we are called to connect with one another to hear each other’s needs and bear each other’s burdens.

Nowhere here does it say to serve ourselves and only ourselves. Nowhere does it say to gripe and gossip and grow our own sense of self at the expense of others. Nowhere does it say to ignore the needs of this world—the needs of all of creation. As part of the light and salt God has sent into the world, we put our own selfish and individualistic tendencies aside for the good of all.

Together. Not alone.

All of you, all of us, are the salt of the earth. All of you, all of us are the light of the world. And God has created us to shine.

Amen.

One-on-One: Nicodemus

Sermon preached Sunday, March 8, 2020, the Second Sunday in Lent, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

As I mentioned last week, we’re taking this season of Lent to hone in on several one-on-one interactions Jesus has with people. Some are really short, only a line or two, and some are longer, but they all result in teaching us something about God and something about ourselves.

This morning we have one of the longer encounters: Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus. What do we know about him? At this point, he is presented to us as a Pharisee, one of the Jewish religious leaders who interpreted the law of God so that people could better understand how to live in communion with God and in community with one another. They are frequently pitted against Jesus in the Gospels, as some of them see Jesus’ teachings and movement as a threat.

Nicodemus, however, doesn’t seem to be one of the threatened ones. He even tells Jesus that he knows he is from God because of the signs Jesus has performed. A common interpretation of this scene is that Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night because he is afraid of being seen—that he’s afraid of “getting in trouble” for approaching Jesus. I don’t happen to think this is the most compelling reason for why Nicodemus shows up after night fall.

If you think back to the prologue of this Gospel, you’ll remember that John, the Gospel writer, likes to talk about the dichotomy between light and darkness. He uses this as a metaphor for spiritual light and darkness, being enlightened and receptive and understanding of the reign of God and being obtuse and oppositional to what God is up to.

So, Nicodemus coming to Jesus has less to do with wanting to hide his actions and more to do with the idea that Nicodemus is still in spiritual darkness—in other words, he doesn’t understand what’s going on yet. He’s still in the dark.

Here’s how I like to imagine it: Nicodemus is at home, in bed, trying to fall asleep…but something keeps niggling at him, keeping him from drifting off. Just who exactly is Jesus? Why does he have this God-given power? What does this mean? And so, Nicodemus gives up. He’s never going to fall asleep, not until he has some answers. It’s time to go straight to the source.

He gets to where Jesus is staying. Was Jesus sleeping? Maybe. Or maybe he was just winding down with some of the disciples. But regardless of where he was at with his evening, Nicodemus is an unexpected guest. And Nicodemus doesn’t even get a chance to really even say what brings him to the door—he just states that he and others know that Jesus is a teacher who has come from God and Jesus comes right back with that famous line about being born from above.

Nicodemus misunderstands and Jesus clarifies: you must be born of water and the spirit. Living water is another big theme in John’s Gospel. We’ll see it in Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well. It’s a reference to baptism, but it has some deeper implications, like the waters of birth and the water that flows out of Jesus’ side after he dies on the cross. Their conversation continues and it’s made explicitly clear that Nicodemus really doesn’t quite get what Jesus is all about. And Jesus’ way of explaining is by going all the way to talking about eternal life and death and ascending to heaven.

In fact, that one verse, John 3:16—which reads, together now!: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” –That one verse is one of most famous Bible verses—if not the most famous verse! It’s one of the few verses that people can just toss out chapter and verse and many folks will know what you’re talking about. I could say Romans 2:4 and I bet none of you would have a clue which verse I was referring to, but it’s a totally different story with John 3:16.

But the thing is, we sometimes get so focused on this one verse that we ignore the verses around it and what this whole exchange implies. Yes, John 3:16 is the Gospel in a nutshell, but Jesus uses what he says before and after it to help explain further how expansive that love is. When he cites the story of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness, he is bringing to mind how sick and dying people looked to their salvation lifted up on a pole—not unlike Jesus being hung on the cross. And he finishes this interlude by saying, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (3:17)

So that the world would not be condemned but saved. I’ll be honest with you, a lot of folks ignore the good news of John 3:16 and leap straight to condemnation: “It’s says that those ‘who believe’ will have eternal life, so everyone else must be out of luck!” But this text is good news for the believers, for the sick with sin and dying who look for their salvation. It tells us what the blessing is. It tells us that we who believe will not perish but have eternal life. Why are we sometimes so eager to use this verse as a club?

The heart of this one-on-one comes down to love. That’s what we can take away from it. God loves the entire universe so very much that God was willing to die for us. And because of that love, we’re able to follow the example of Nicodemus.

Nicodemus plucks up his courage, seeks Jesus out, and isn’t afraid to engage in some back and forth, asking clarifying questions and trying to figure things out. And Jesus doesn’t brush him off! Jesus says that Nicodemus still doesn’t understand—and implies that he probably should by now—but that doesn’t stop Jesus from trying to explain it one more time.

This one-on-one is a great one to remember when you’re struggling to understand, when your faith feels all jumbled up, when you read something or hear something that challenges you theologically or pushes back on preconceived notions. Remember that it’s okay to not get it right away. It’s okay to ask God to help you sort it out. It’s okay to come to God in the middle of the night with all the concerns and questions that keep you up at night.

After all, what happens with Nicodemus after this night? His faith in Jesus is deepened. Nicodemus shows up two more times in the Gospel of John. He is there when the Pharisees try to get Jesus arrested in Chapter 7, defending him. And his is there in Chapter 19, after the crucifixion, bring along spices to anoint Jesus and prepare him for burial along with Joseph of Arimathea. His time with Jesus strengthened his faith and increased his trust.

When we have big questions and heavy concerns, Christ is waiting for us to bring them to him, even in the middle of the night.

Amen.

You Are the Light of the World

Sermon preached Sunday, February 9, 2020, the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

“You are the salt of the earth,” Jesus says. “You are the light of the world.”

This is a familiar passage—part of the famous Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew. Do you know what comes just before it?

The verses leading up to this section are the beatitudes, the list of those who are blessed:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. ¹²Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Matthew 5:3-11)

Here’s why the order matters: the “you” Jesus is speaking is all those folks he just named: the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, the ones who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted.

These are words of hope, words of promise to people who have little to look forward to. All of these groups who Jesus has just identified as blessed have bleak prospects. They are oppressed. They are grieving. They are trying to find peace and justice and goodness when all those things seem in short supply. They are looking for the light.

…and Jesus tells them that they are it. They are the light that the world needs. They are blessed with all these things from God and those blessings shine through them out into the people and places around them. They are the face of Christ in a hurting world.

And we know that it’s not only meant for them, but for us, too, today. When Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” his words are for all of us as well. Aren’t we also facing a bleak world filled with injustice? Don’t we also see corrupt forces win the day? Don’t we also see people mistreated or allowed to suffer? Don’t we also hunger and thirst for righteousness?

So, we are the light of the world in the here and now. And remember that Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” not “you will be” or “you could be.” Jesus is making a declarative statement about the present, not some conditional proposition that we could choose to live up to or not. It is something we are already in place to do—something we are already empowered to do.

And we don’t need to guess at what that means: scripture gives a pretty good idea, especially in today’s reading from Isaiah. The Lord is speaking to Israel and telling them that empty gestures of worship aren’t cutting it. Instead, God lays out the “fast” that would be preferred. Let me repeat it for you:

“⁶Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin? …
^9bIf you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
¹⁰if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.” (Isaiah 58:6-10)

Did you catch all that? Let’s break it down.

“…to loose the bonds of injustice and undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free and to break every yoke.” What might that look like?

It might mean working to fix broken systems that disproportionately impact certain groups more than others. It might mean ensuring that people aren’t taken advantage of by their employers as they seek to make a living wage. It might mean seeking out and providing mental and physical health care to all who are ill in body and spirit.

Then, what’s next? “…to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin.” This shouldn’t be too hard to parse out, right? How can we get food to hungry people? How can we provide shelter to folks who need it? What can we do get people the basic necessities of life?

And how about that last line: “hide yourself from your own kin.” We need to not cut ourselves off from each other. Instead we are called to connect with one another to hear each other’s needs and bear each other’s burdens.

Nowhere here does it say to serve ourselves. Nowhere does it say to gripe and gossip and grow our own sense of self at the expense of others. Nowhere does it say to ignore the needs of this world—the needs of all of creation. When we are the light we put our own selfish and individualistic tendencies aside for the good of all.

And what does Isaiah say will happen when we embark on this fast that God chooses? “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn…your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the midday.”

In other words…we are the light when we embark on this fast. We are the light when we serve our neighbors. We are the light when we care for creation. We are the light when we listen to God’s word. We are the light when we live as beloved children of God.

This is what we are called to do. This is who we are called to be. Light in a gloomy, shadowy landscape. Hope in the midst of despair. Grace in the face of an unforgiving world.

The hymn we are about to sing is “Christ, Be Our Light.” It is a plea, asking for Christ to break through and provide the things we are longing for in this broken world. While we sing, we ask God to make us bread, to make us a building to shelter others, to make us God’s holy people. We proclaim that Christ is our light, but we are also asking God to make us part of that light. In the refrain we sing, “Christ, be our light! Shine in your church gathered today.”

That’s what it is. Christ’s love and light flowing through us and out into the world.

You and me, we are the light of the world. Shine.

Amen.

The Light

Sermon preached Sunday, January 5, 2020, the Second Sunday after Christmas, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Nothing sets the stage quite like a good prologue. It’s more than simply a beginning, it’s an introduction; it sets the stage for the themes to come. It sometimes introduces characters or settings or simple truths that will play a role in the drama to come.

I think about Shakespeare’s beginning of Romeo and Juliet: “Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

Or, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol: “Marley was dead, to begin with.”

The prologue to the gospel of John is no different in these respects. The first sentence alone is powerful and evocative: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” We have the main character, the Word, and a hearkening back to Genesis when it was the voice of God speaking the words, “Let there be,” that brought all life into being.

John’s prologue tells us everything that we need to know about the Word…Namely, that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth… ¹⁶From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:14, 16) The following chapters and narrative are simply examples and expansions of this truth.

Probably the best-known part of this prologue is the verse we usually say on Christmas Eve as we light our candles: “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” It’s familiar to most of us. But what if I told you it could be translated differently?

The beauty and difficulty of our scripture is that, for one, our words are limited by the boundaries of human language and, secondly, that unless we look at the original Hebrew and Greek, it’s hard to know the precise intent of those ancients who put pen to paper. After all, any translation we read is an interpretation, it involves a translator making choices about word choice and punctuation and even which individual manuscript the translation is based off of. There are often many words a person could choose to use and their own point of view and faith influence that choice.

This particular verse, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it,” is a prime example. This is the most common translation, the one that has been used in English Bibles for years and years. But the word here that we have translated as “overcome” can also be translated as “understand.” So, it could read: “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not understand it.” Whoa, right? Doesn’t that small change make an impact?

What is the difference between “overcome” and “understand”? Overcome makes me thing of adversity, of physical exertion, maybe, of conquering. Understand makes me think of something a little more internal, a little softer, a little more compassionate. These words are related, but they are certainly not the same.

What does it mean that the light is not understood by the darkness? What does it mean that God is not understood? I think it means that this world, so fully saturated and steeped in sin, has trouble understanding how God is at work because it looks strange and foreign and mystifying to us.

And perhaps it is that main point of the prologue that is the strangest of all: “…the Word became flesh and lived among us.” It’s Christmas, so I’ve been talking a lot about the incarnation. You might even be getting a little tired of hearing the same thing. But the truth is, after two thousand years of hearing the story told over and over, I think we’ve lost a bit of the incredible-ness of this act!

Think back to the stories of ancient gods and goddesses who were worshipped at this time. If any ever wanted to be among mortals, they would assume our form, but never give up their own divine power. And they certainly would never choose to appear as a newborn. This is something incomprehensible that God chose to do and the world was not ready and did not understand it…we still don’t fully understand it, even as much as we might claim otherwise.

We show we don’t understand when we insist that someone is weak or cowardly when they seek to avoid violence or war. We show we don’t understand when we think that someone is gullible or naïve if they choose offer support to someone who might take advantage of them. We show we don’t understand when we still fail to see the face of Jesus in every single human being.

But it is still among us, among a world that just doesn’t get it, that God came. Whatever we call Christ, the Light or the Word—he came and made a home among us. He didn’t just come to spend some time, hang out, but the word here means to put up a tent, to literally make one’s home. Christ came to dwell deeply with us.

So, I guess the question then becomes: in a world that doesn’t understand, how do you show that Christ is dwelling in your life? How would someone know it by looking at your life? What do you say or do, what do you support, what do you oppose, that reflects this sacrificial, peace-seeking, justice-bringing God?

Prayer and scripture reading and attending church just doesn’t cut it, not if you want your faith to really be seen. These are important and wonderful things for our faith, but there is more to the Christian life. I’m sure we can all think of people who go to church on a regular basis, know their Bible well, pray, but can’t seem to muster up compassion, or a sense of charity, or a modicum of grace for another person. They might be Christian. They might have a strong faith in God. But their life is not reflecting that Light which enlightens everyone, as the Gospel of John puts it.

Next week, I’ll be baptizing Owen and I’ve been thinking a lot about our baptismal vows. On Owen’s behalf, I will promise to bring him to worship, place scripture in his hands, pray with him, and give him communion, “so that [my child] may learn to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.” (ELW Baptismal Rite)

In other words, so that his life will reflect that light. And that every baptized person’s life will reflect that light.

Sometimes folks won’t understand it. They won’t understand our unwillingness to let greed and corruption and selfishness win out. They won’t understand how we can value all of God’s creation so highly. They won’t understand why we lead with love instead of hate or division or individualism.

But frankly, that’s okay. It’s okay if they don’t understand us. The world didn’t understand Jesus, either.

Amen.